Deny Thy Father and Refuse Thy Name
by xXShann25Xx
Summary: AU/AH. The year is 1493 and the land is Italy, and beautiful but naive Elena Gilbert is in the middle of being negotiated into an arranged marriage with the older Conti Di Sallencia by her power-hungry father. However she is unexplicably drawn to Damon Salvatore, the local blacksmith, despite their conflicting classes. Together, they begin a passionate and secretive love affair
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own ****nothing but the plot, all rights go to L.J Smith, the CW, and the title inspiration goes to William Shakespeare!**

**AU/AH The year is 1493, and the naive Elena Gilbert is in the middle of being negotiated into an ****arranged marriage with the older Conti Di Sallencia by her power-hungry father. However she is unexplicably drawn to Damon Salvatore, the infamous local blacksmith, despite their conflicting classes. Together, they begin a passionate and secretive love affair.**

* * *

**Prologue...**

"Now remember," Jon began, sipping at the wine in his hand, "You must look your best, have your mannerisms perfected, and do as you're told. This man is very important to my business Elena, and it is of the utmost importance that he finds you acceptable. Understood?"

"Yes Father." Elena picked at her venison, staring at the plate in front of her numbly. Her father watched her closely, detecting the signs of unhappiness in his daughter's features.

"Elena what is it, what's wrong?"

She sighed before looking up. "Father, you told me this man may find me suitable, but how? He has never even met me, nor I him. How could he want me?"

"Want you?" Jon set down his fork, polishing his mouth with a napkin. "Elena, he is very wealthy and owns much land. He will respect you at least, and what more do you want?" He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, "Elena, you are my only daughter, and I only want the best for you. This man is the best. His estates alone far outnumber any of the younger suitors here in Milan."

"But-"

"That's quite enough." Her father silenced her curtly, continuing with his dinner. "We are going to Florence, you will be charming and elegant, and if all goes well we shall see if the Conti Di Sallencia is willing to make a proposition. And if you are very unhappy, I'm sure we can come to some other… arrangement."

Elena swallowed her irritation and concentrated on the promise of her say being heard. After all, her father only wanted the best.

* * *

**AN: Exceedingly short, I know, but this is a prologue! The actual chapters will be longer, I promise. This story is the first breakthrough for my writers block, and I'm sorry that I've lost inspiration for my other one, but I'm hoping to go back to it after this. Thanks guys, and please review- they're awesome! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own ****nothing but the plot, all rights go to L.J Smith, the CW, and the title inspiration goes to William Shakespeare!**

**AN: Sorry for the wait guys, I was on holiday. The next chapter is on its way and I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I would like to thank you for your reviews, they give me inspiration to write more. Enjoy :)**

* * *

Elena fanned herself as they trundled along the woodland border of Florence and Siena towards the small and prosperous town of Trigio. It was a far cry from Milan. Her attendant and childhood companion Caroline Forabo, a porcelain girl with blonde hair and wide blue eyes, watched her fidget for a moment before looking away again.

"I can't take another moment of your incessant rustling Elena!" Conti Di Jonathon Gilbert, also known as her father, snapped. He knocked the roof of their carriage loudly, before jumping out and going to join the driver in the front. He leant back inside the carriage door for a moment, "Open a window. I expect your nerves to have settled by the time we arrive in Trigio." Then he was gone, leaving his daughter to calm herself.

"Oh, Caroline," Elena whispered. "What do I do?"

The girl clasped her hand, "Focus on this exciting excursion, Elena. That will be worth it." She leaned over and pulled back the lace covering the window, opening it to let fresh air and sunlight stream into the small box, "Look Elena, we're almost there!" Apparently forgetting her friend's state of panic, Caroline moved to the opposite seat and leaned as far out of the window as possible. "Elena look, look!"

Drawn in by her insistent excitement, Elena stared out of the window, the patterns of light through leaves filtering onto her blue muslin dress and dancing across her olive skin. The town was in the middle of the countryside, surrounded by fields and forest. The merciless sun beat down on the people going about their business in the large town, women with nets in their hair buying goods from traders, while others hung their fabric from the windows. The streets were wide and dusty, and the largest was lined with many stalls and small commerce; bakers, farmers, merchants, musicians.

The carriage rolled around a corner, and a man striding along the street faltered. He stopped as the carriage went past, and looked up defiantly. Elena gasped as his eyes met hers. They were cold; full of anger and contempt. She reeled backing her seat, stunned. How could he look at her like that, when he didn't even know her? Who was he?

"What a rude man!" Caroline voiced indignantly, sending him a glare to match his own, not noticing Elena's reaction. "Honestly, you'd think he'd have the common decorum…." She continued on as they travelled to the estate of Conti Di Sallencia. Elena simply leaned back in her seat, already forgetting the man and his malevolent eyes.

All too soon, the carriage stopped and Elena heard a knock on the carriage door before it opened and the driver helped her out. She stood dazed for a moment in the hot Italian sun, before smoothing her skirts and ensuring her long chestnut hair was pinned back. Elena quickly checked over her horse that had drove the carriage from Milan to this town, happy not to note any signs of injury. She stood clasping her fan in her hands demurely, watching as her father embraced a tall, dark haired man.

Her eyes wandered past the businessmen to where a younger man stood. He must have been about her age, and had thick, wavy light brown hair and dark green eyes. His eyes met hers and he nodded imperceptibly. She returned the favour- that small token of friendliness from a stranger in this unknown place comforted her.

"I would like you to meet my daughter, Elena." Elena was suddenly aware of her name being spoken, and she glided forward shyly to her father's side.

"It's a special pleasure to meet you, Donna Elena."

"Elena, this is Conti Di Alphonse Sallencia. Conti, my daughter. Isn't she a beauty?"

Elena felt as though she should say something, but the tall man did it first. "Indeed she is Jonathon. You must have had impeccable taste when choosing her mother."

"Indeed I did!"

Elena flushed in slight anger as the two men laughed. She had never known her mother, she'd died before she could remember her, but she was almost certain the two men in front of her had no grounds to speak about her like that. All of a sudden, Conti Di Sallencia was closer to her; he had bowed. Now she could see how old he was; he must have been older than her father, about forty. He had dark eyes that held a sort of mocking cruelty to them, and his face didn't seem used to smiling.

Still, he sneered his greedy approval at her as she held out her hand timidly for him to kiss, flinching slightly when his large hand gripped her delicate one in iron control. His lips against her skin were wet and the bristles of his moustache scratched her knuckles.

Not comfortable in the slightest.

* * *

Caroline pulled an ivory comb through Elena's long, straight curtain of dark hair. The candles flickered in the light breeze that swirled through the open window. Conti Di Alphonse's estate was large; a wide stone villa that sprawled across the grounds. The villa only had three floors, supported by marble pillars. The walled courtyard was cobbled, and curved round to the stables which were situated on the left hand side of the building, along with the servants quarters and the kitchens. The views afforded to residents of the villa were that of the Italian mountains and woodland on the eastern side and the adjoining town on the west.

Trigio was in fact joined to the villa; the thick, tall outer walls of the stable-yard made up some of Trigio's eastern town wall, although you would not know it. Heavy bricks blocked out most of the noise from the vibrant town, and the Conti's beautiful paved gardens masked any unpleasant aroma's that might chance to float onto the estate. This was what Elena, from her chambers on the upper floor, could see.

"Caroline, do you think Father would allow me into the town? With attendants of course."

"Perhaps," said Caroline, placing a section of combed hair over her shoulder. "Green or gold ribbon?"

"Gold. Oh Caroline, this is so exciting! It's not nearly as bad as I expected, and the town is just through the stable-yard! And hopefully Father will make his transactions, and then we can return to Milan!"

Caroline's face fell momentarily. "I wouldn't advise holding your breath Elena."

Elena frowned innocently, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Nothing. I just predict a long business contract, that is all."

Before Elena could question her further, there was a smart knock on the door. "Come in," Elena called, turning on her stool. Caroline moved to pick the jewels for her throat.

The door opened, and the young servant that had shared a kind gesture with her earlier appeared. He was even more appealing in the fading sun. "Evening meals are ready, Donna."

"Grazie," she smiled at him, earning another minute one in return. "Inform Conti Di Sallencia and my father that I shall be there presently, per favore."

"As you wish, Donna." Just as the servant was about to leave Caroline returned, carrying a rope of pearls in her pale hands. He paused momentarily as Caroline stared from across the room, then he turned away and shut the door gently. Caroline let out a small breath before continuing to tie the necklace around Elena's slender throat.

"What a charming man," Elena commented, standing and studying her reflection in the mirror.

"Indeed," Caroline said quietly, as she escorted Elena to the dining hall, where she sat between her father and the Conti.

* * *

The next day passed, and Elena found her presence constantly with Conti Di Sallencia and her father; sampling some small delicacies from the kitchens, making conversation, and listening to the two men talk about business. Business. They spoke of business a great deal, even in her presence, and when Elena asked the Conti if she could go and see to her horse, her father stopped her with a swift, "But Elena, you haven't told Conti Alphonse about your skill with Latin," and she was forced to sit back down and converse once more. This time in Latin.

They were sitting outside during their evening meal when Elena spoke. "Father, Conti. I was wondering whether you would be willing to allow me a trip into town tomorrow, just to look around and acquaint myself with the area?"

Jon looked contemplative, "I don't know Elena, the Conti and I were going to go through some business-"

"Scusi, Conti Di Gilbert, but I'm sure that would bore the Donna. I am more than happy to allow her to leave the villa." He looked at Elena, "If you see something that you would like, just inform me, and I shall send a boy out for it."

"Grazie-"

"I'm not fond of this notion. She has no attendants-"

"I have Caroline, Father."

"No _male_ attendants to escort her."

Conti di Alphonse shook his head as though the conversation annoyed him, "Stefan can go with the two ladies, Jonathon. He's an obedient servant and has been valuable since I hired him. Anyway, he needs to take the horses for shoeing as it stands, so it's no inconvenience."

Jon deflated, obviously the Conti's opinion held more sway than his daughter's did. "Fine. Elena, you may go into town tomorrow with this male escort and Caroline," his eyes turned to the fair maid standing dutifully behind Elena, "I don't want you to leave her side."

"Si, Conti di Gilbert."

"Grazie Father! And grazie Conti Di Sallencia for your generous offer!"

"Per favore, Donna, think nothing of it."

That night, as Elena lay in her chambers, a smile made its way onto her face. Tomorrow, she could escape the walls of the villa and the pressure of her father, if only for a few hours.

The next day Elena rose and had a light breakfast with Jonathon and Counti Alphonse, before one of the servants around the villa led her and Caroline to the stables. As the two ladies made their way across the cobblestones, Elena's chestnut mare, 'Marchesa', came into view. Elena rushed forward, patting the animal's back and long neck. "It's good to see you again," she whispered into the horse's mane.

"Donna! Per favore, forgive my lateness, I was held up in the kitchens." The young man who she now seemed to be seeing everywhere appeared, his hair slightly dishevelled and an apologetic expression on his face. "Would you like to mount your horse Donna?"

"Stefan, is that your name?"

He looked surprised, "Er, yes. Stefan Salvatore, Donna."

"Please, call me Elena. It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Stefan Salvatore." She smiled brightly at him. "This is Caroline Forabo, my attendant."

Caroline smiled shyly, "Salve."

Stefan smiled back at her, his features seeming to glow with the action. "Salve, Signorina Forabo."

"How old are you Stefan?" Elena asked conversationally as he led another horse closer to them

"Eight and ten, Don- Elena."

She noticed the awkwardness with which he said her name and his hasty retreat to catch up on his mistake. "Please, Stefan, allow us to be friends. Don't treat me any differently than you would a peer." His silent surprise at her proposal pushed her to continue. "Thank you for escorting us to town."

Stefan shook himself out of his stupor and started fixing the last saddle on the third horse. "It's no problem. I have errands to run and the horses need shoeing, plus the blacksmith is my brother, so really I have every reason to go to town. Nevertheless, you are welcome Elena." And when he turned back to her an easy smile graced his features.

On the short ride through the town to the main streets, Stefan, Caroline and Elena conversed amicably, and Elena was pleased to see that her efforts seemed to be working. Stefan explained how he had lived in Trigio all his life with his father and brother. Although his father no longer breathed, his brother made his living as a blacksmith, while Stefan worked in the service of the Conti.

Caroline explained how her mother had been Elena's wet-nurse and had taken care of both girls until they were ten. Now they were strong friends, as close as sisters.

Elena listened to the other two chatter, and let her mind drift. The city around her was so full of life- not the idle life of the Milan nobles or the stressed life of the men of the clergy, but daily hustle and bustle. Children played on doorsteps, a woman was arguing with a merchant about the cost of apples, a band of travelling musicians sang loudly, a group of men worked tirelessly on constructing a building at one corner of the marketplace… Life went on simply and freely.

They turned down a wide street just off the main square, and a loud clanging noise caught Elena's attention. The air was damper and warmer, steam clinging to the atmosphere as a couple of horses whined at the end of the street stamping their hooves and swishing their tails. The sounds of men speaking came from the opposite side of the lane, from what looked like a carpentry workshop. From another section of the street, outside a lone blacksmith hammered a glowing piece of metal, and there was also what looked like a stonemason's business at the far end. Obviously, this was the craftsmen's street

Stefan slowed his horse, jumping off gallantly and tying it to a peg in the wall before helping Elena and Caroline off their horses "I could escort you to town and come back myself," he offered, aware of the smoke that hung in the air.

"That would be-"

"No no! Let's stay!"

"Elena!" Caroline exclaimed, shocked. "This is hardly a respectable area for a lady to be-"

"I don't care," Elena interrupted her once again. She turned her head from side to side, taking in the world that was so foreign to her. "I want to stay. You may go on to the marketplace if you wish."

Caroline pursed her lips, looking torn between obeying her Donna and going to inspect the fine silks imported from Spain that a merchant was advertising loudly. "I will stay here, Donna," she said tersely, obviously disapproving.

Elena brushed her friend's irritation off, "Very well." She looked at Stefan, "You lead the way, Stefan."

After glancing at Caroline, who had crossed her arms and raised her chin in the air determinedly, he began towards the now-empty blacksmith's spot. "Damon!" Elena followed him, delicately holding the hem of her dress above the blackened stones, her eyes wide. Stefan sighed impatiently, "Damon!"

"IN A MINUTE!" The distant voice that replied sent shivers down Elena's spine. There was a crash from inside the workshop, and a stream of curses. "Vaffanculo!"

Stefan winced, casting Elena an apologetic look. She was puzzled, "What does it mean? she asked in confusion, her brows knitting together.

"Its of no importance," Stefan was quick to dismiss his brother's foul language. "Ah there you are finally Damon!"

"It's good to see you, little brother." The other man smirked, "Careful; we wouldn't want to soil that feminine shirt of yours." He laughed while Stefan scowled ruefully. Suddenly, his cold blue eyes caught Elena's dark ones. "What's she doing here?" he demanded.

Stefan hurried to introduce them. "This is Donna Elena Gilbert, daughter of Conti di Jonathon Gilbert. Elena, this is my brother and blacksmith, Damon Salvatore."

Damon was dressed in the usual attire of a smith: a long black tunic with the sleeves rolled up and a leather apron to keep his clothes from soiling beyond repair. Elena offered him a small smile, but he looked back at Stefan, his features set as hard as marble. "And what is she doing here?"

Despite the man's ignorant attitude, she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, even under all the sweat and dust that came from working in a gritty, hot environment. His hair was black and as fine as silk, his eyes were a clear blue, his bone structure refined, and his body made of sinewy muscles.

"I'm escorting Elena and her attendant to market," Stefan replied. Damon snorted. "Damon, please," he hissed.

The elder brother sighed heavily before turning to Elena. "_Please_ forgive my rudeness. It is an _honour_ to meet you, Donna." His voice was mocking and he swept into a dramatic bow.

She stared at him in disbelief, unaware as to why this man had taken such a heavy dislike to her. As he straightened, she gasped, "You!" She recognized him as the man from the street, the one who had thrown her such a vicious glare. "_You!_"

Damon's cool gaze switched to her. "Yes Donna, this is me," he said cryptically.

"Per favore, Damon…" Stefan muttered. "I need you to shoe a horse."

"For the _rich _girl?" Damon asked snidely. Elena felt her face grow hot. "Never mind. I'll need to see the hooves." She trailed behind as the two men spoke, distracting herself with watching a potter patiently mould a lump of clay into a small pot.

"…a day at most." Damon had stood from where he had knelt to lift the horse's hooves without injuring it.

"How much?"

"Ah…. Eleven florins." Stefan gave him five. "Per favore, don't be tight-fisted," Damon encouraged with a laugh.

"And give you more to spend on women and drink, before the job is done? I don't think so."

"Stefan…"

Stefan shook his head, holding his hands up, "What you do with your money is your business, brother. As of the present," he pocketed the sack of coins, "this money belongs to the Conti di Sallencia."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Ah, the gracious Conte. Do you know your master removed Fabrizio Noviaci and his wife and children from their home? All because Fab was a few days late on payment." He shook his head in disgust.

Stefan looked grim, "Fabrizio was an honest man. Where'd he go?"

"They loaded their cart and went further south, towards the coastal route. Fabrizio has merchant friends down there, I think he hoped they'll give him the foot up he needs," the elder Salvatore's lip curled. "Typical aristocrats- no room for the poor, no thought for anyone but themselves, they're stuck so far up their own-"

"I will see you tomorrow brother." Stefan quickly cut in.

Damon glanced at Elena and laughed pointedly. "Tomorrow it is. Enjoy sleeping on your silken sheets, Donna." He muttered under his breath, "While the rest of us make do with cotton."

"I do _not_ sleep on silken sheets." The curt retort flew unbidden from her mouth in a moment of indignation, and Elena's eyes grew large at her own audacity. If her father had been there… "I- I-" Damon simply looked at her, before laughing and striding back towards the smithy. His lack of response bothered her even further; he didn't think enough of her to properly reply!

"Pardon my brother," Stefan said quietly. "He is difficult." He seemed to forget his next words as Caroline came into view. "There are now only two horses, two of us will have to share a saddle."

Seeing the coy look Caroline sent Stefan, Elena said, "I admit I am unfamiliar with sharing a saddle."

The maid waited the correct amount of seconds before gracefully speaking. "I would be honoured to ride with you, Stefan." Stefan smiled at her shyly and set to preparing the saddles. Caroline looked at Elena, "So, did you enjoy your venture into that blackened rubble?"

Elena lifted herself onto her horse without replying.

Damon worked hard, hammering away at the glowing ring of metal in front of him. He heard his brother and the two ladies leave the street by the sound of their horses' hooves. His eyes narrowed as he reflected on the past scene. He knew that his brother would have been escorting a Donna, a lady or courtesan, so why had his blood rose? Truly, she had been exceptionally beautiful; doe-eyed with long lashes, slender, dark hair controlled by a jewelled net and clear skin…

No, Damon told himself firmly. She wouldn't be worth it. It wasn't worth dreaming about- he had seen himself how meek she was. Although…. Donna Elena had surprised him with her sharp words.

But no. She was a Donna. The daughter of a Conte. She was bound to be just as selfish, mindless, and vain as the nobles were- he could never be attracted to a woman like that.

The metal finally moulded into shape beneath his hammer, and he threw it into a bucket of water to cool with a "hiss". He was better sticking to whores and drink- people who understood what real life was.

* * *

"What an ignorant man!" Caroline exclaimed in aggravation. After they had returned back to the villa, laden with silks and threads, Caroline had attended Elena bathe. Finally, she was able to draw a picture of the blacksmith. She dropped her voice, "Are you sure he's related to Stefan?" She poured more hot water over Elena's shoulders. "Well at least you never have to see him again. It's not as though you'll have to often mix with commoners."

"Hmm." Elena's mind was still filled with the blacksmith's angry eyes. "I don't understand," her face fell. "What did I do to make him hate me so?"

Caroline sighed, "Envy is powerful, Elena."

"Envy? Why in the world would he be envious?"

"Consider this. You are high-born, he's just another commoner."

"Every life has worth!"

"Unfortunately not in this society we live in. He has to work for food, shelter, clothing. You do not. You have everything he doesn't."

Elena rested her head against the side of the bath, "Not everything." She closed her eyes, "Freedom." Her lids lifted again, "Perhaps if I did something- tried to help them-then maybe"

"It's not worth thinking about, Donna," Caroline said quietly. "Now, time for bed."

Elena thought hard as Caroline dried and dressed her. The stubbornness her father had done his utmost to repress reared its head. No matter what, she would not be scared away from a friendship with the blacksmith and his mocking personality.

* * *

Stefan yawned in the warm Italian sun as he crossed the courtyard. His master and the Conti Di Gilbert had left on a hunting trip early that morning, and were not coming back until afternoon the next day. That meant that he had been up before the suns rays started to show, preparing food, wine, and supplies for their trip before readying their horses and securing the villa. Now the villa was coming alive with quiet activities of the servants, and he had to retrieve the horse his brother had shoed.

He groomed and saddled a small mare before swinging himself onto the saddle. Just as Stefan began to trot towards the gate, a gentle voice called.

"Stefan, wait!"

He stopped his horse and turned. Elena was hurrying towards him, already dressed and carrying a small pouch and basket. "Donna? What are you doing?"

She came to stand beside his horse and he jumped down. Elena gave him a look, "Stefan, please. Elena."

"Elena." He corrected, already more relaxed. "What is it? Do you need me to get something in town?"

"I was actually hoping that if you were picking up the horses your brother has, that I could perhaps come with you?" She saw the hesitation on his face and rushed to continue. "I wouldn't be any trouble, and its up to you of course… I would just like to give this to your brother." She held out the basket in her small hands, revealing some fruit, two loaves of bread, cheese, and some cold meats.

Stefan's heart swelled at her kindness. "Oh, Elena. It's a lovely gesture, but my brother-"

"I'll just give them on to him and go," she pleaded. "Please Stefan?"

He looked into her soft eyes and sighed. How could he warn her of his brother's hard-hearted attitude? "Very well then," he agreed with a half-hearted smile, helping her onto a horse and praying that Damon would have some gratitude towards her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own ****nothing but the plot, all rights go to L.J Smith, the CW, and the title inspiration goes to William Shakespeare!**

**AN: I know, I know I took AGES to write this, but my muse deserted me for a while and back to school life caught up with me :C. But I have managed to get this finished and uploaded, and I'm already working on the beginning of the next chapter. Thank you all for your reviews, they really are encouraging! :)**

* * *

When Stefan and Elena reached the craftsmen's street, it was hard to find room to tie the horses, or to hear each other. "How is it so busy?" Elena called, standing to the side as he secured the horses.

Stefan glanced around, "There's a wedding today- the tavern owner's son and a local girl. Of course the whole town has turned out for the free wine."

"Oh," her eyes drank in the town square wistfully. "They must be having so much fun," she commented as cheers and laughter sounded.

"For now, Do-Elena," Stefan said carefully, a note of apprehension in his voice.

Elena looked back at him, her smooth brow wrinkling. "Whatever do you mean?"

"We all have a routine to get back to, Elena." Their communication was ceased as a group of loud youths pushed their way down the lane. Stefan led her back to the forge and she hung back, admiring some finely crafted swords lying on a long wooden bench as he spoke with his brother.

Elena ran her gloved fingers over the intricate patterns in the metal hilt, feeling the cold smoothness under her skin. She could smell sulphur and smoke in the air, though only faintly, as the craftsmen had not fully come to life yet. Approaching footsteps and voices woke her from her reverie and she turned slowly.

There he was. Standing in the same black tunic, but without the leathers, was Damon Salvatore. Without a layer of dirt on his skin, he seemed illuminated by the bright sun and Elena found it hard to speak for a moment as she stared at the sight of such male beauty.

* * *

Damon's eyes wandered to a source of movement at the entrance of the forge, stopping at a slender figure clothed in cream lace with dark hair bound neatly on top of her head. He looked back at his brother, fighting the urge to immediately question why he had brought her back here.

"Here." Stefan handed Damon a purse containing several gold florins. Damon quickly pocketed the money, ignoring the pleading look his brother gave him.

"There you go, Stefan, she's tied up down there." He jerked his head down towards the stables. "I'll see you."

"Goodbye Damon," Stefan clapped his brother on the shoulder and turned, "Donna-"

"Elena." The closeness of her warm voice made Damon start. She was standing just a meter away, and giving Stefan a pointed look.

"Sorry, Elena. The horse is in the stables."

Damon noticed that a wicker basket hung from her elbow as she replied. "I'll wait here if you don't mind Stefan." _What?_ This new proposal made Damon feel aggravated and uncharacteristically awkward. _Why?_

Damon's surprise was reflected in Stefan's face. "Er, Elena, I'm not sure your Father would approve-"

"My father is not here, Stefan."

"Please, you should be back at the villa soon or people will start to wonder-"

"It will only take a few minutes."

Damon's eyebrows travelled up his forehead as he watched the exchange. "Elena, I-"

"Stefan, please." She stared at him until he sighed reluctantly and began walking away from them. Elena tuned around to see his brother staring at her with one corner of his mouth curling derisively. After a moment, he walked abruptly back to his table, lean profile illuminated by the sun, and began hitting a broad piece of iron. She followed him uncertainly, delicately stepping to the side to avoid the rain of sparks that flew into the air and onto the floor each time he struck.

She watched him work, following the curl of his sooty eyelashes and his angular jaw. A vein pulsed in his neck, and Elena felt a strange warmth grow inside her as she stared at the flexing muscles of his forearms and valley of his bare, sweaty back, smudged with dirt and soot. She had never seen so much of a man's body in her life.

But she quickly broke her chain of thought- her father would have her exorcised if he knew her current train of thought. Elena attempted to break the silence. "You're very talented."

Damon didn't reply, just snorted.

Elena tried to make conversation again, "Do you enjoy your job?"

At this Damon paused his actions, his hammer faltering over the heated metal before he put it to one side in exasperation. He picked up a cloth and wiped his hands on it, looking at her with an expression of apathy. "Donna, what is it you want?"

Damon's slightly more civil tone gave Elena boldness. "Here," She offered the basket to him, "I thought you might appreciate this." But Damon made no motion to accept it.

"Beg your pardon Donna," he said acerbically, staring daggers at her, "But I am not in need of charity." He spun on his heel, closing himself off to the pretty girl.

Elena's eyes were huge and she stared after him mutely as he strode back towards the forge before finding her voice again. "No! It wasn't charity, it was… it was…" she faltered. _What had it been? A_ gesture of kindness, an attempt at friendship? This hardly seemed like a man who would believe either. "I was just trying to be nice," she finally said. Almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, the blacksmith turned around and raised a condescending brow at her, and she felt herself blanch.

"_Trying to be nice_?" Damon repeated, his voice dripping with cynicism. "How? Flaunting your wealth and luxuries just so that people will be in your debt? Or do you think that by doing so you could get to know me, understand me? Spare me your pleasantries Donna, you will never know what it is to walk the streets as a normal person. I don't want or need your charity. Not from _your_ lot." Then he continued walking back into the building, slamming the wooden door shut behind him with a crash.

Elena stood there for a moment, shock holding her in place. _Never _had she been treated with such rudeness or ungrateful behaviour.

Stefan called to her and she automatically went to him, allowing him to help her onto the horse and nudging it into a trot. As they rode the shock wore off, and anger began creeping up on her. _How dare he be so rude!_ She hadn't done anything wrong, and yet it seemed as though the man was incapable of accepting even the smallest token of friendship!

_Well,_ she decided,_ he certainly is not the type of person I want to be friends with_. "Caroline was right," she stated. Stefan glanced at her questioningly. "You and your brother are nothing alike."

Stefan laughed somewhat dryly. "Many people say that."

"Believe me, it's not something you should be ashamed of."

"I'm sorry if my brother was-"

"Don't apologise for him," Elena said. "You haven't done anything wrong." Stefan fell silent again.

* * *

When they were in sight of the villa walls, he said quickly, "Is Caroline going to meet you on the grounds Elena?"

Elena's brow creased slightly, "No."

"So," Stefan's cheeks were pink now, "perhaps I should walk you back to your apartments until you find her." Elena cast him a sideways glance but he remained stubbornly staring straight ahead.

She answered carefully, "That would be nice, thank you Stefan."

"Just doing my job Elena."

Stefan did as he said. They got back, sent the horses to the stables, and then he escorted her into the villa and to her chambers. Just as they were walking along the corridor Caroline appeared, looking stressed. "Elena!" She ran down the corridor to meet them, relief written across her pale features. "I couldn't find you anywhere? What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine Caroline," the brunette assured her, "I simply went into town this morning."

Caroline took a moment to absorb this information. Then she frowned, "Without me?" A peculiar look came over her face, "Please, you didn't go to see the blacksmith, did you?"

Elena suddenly became exceedingly aware of Stefan's presence just behind her. She pulled off her gloves uncomfortably, "I need to get changed Caroline. Thank you Stefan."

"Stefan?" Caroline seemed to calm down a little, and patted her blonde curls shyly, ""My apologies, I didn't see you."

"Boungiorno, Signorina Forabo," Stefan replied. "Are you well?"

"Perfectly, thank you," Caroline breathed. "And yourself?"

"Can't complain." He nodded at Elena, "Goodbye Elena, goodbye Caroline."

"Ciao."

"Arrivederci." Elena went into her chambers, the light sheets on her bed looking awfully tempting. Suddenly she felt a wave of tiredness, as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Caroline closed the door behind her as she stepped into the room. "You went to see him didn't you?"

"Yes."

Caroline tried not to sigh, "And was your journey successful?"

"Yes." Elena dropped her gloves and cloak across the chair, "I know now that he is a man who I would not mind in the least not knowing."

She dropped into her dressing table stool and began unwinding her hair from its tight braids. Caroline folded her cloak. "I'm sorry Elena," she said. "But some people are just too different." She disappeared behind the wardrobe doors as she hung the cloak. Elena shook out her long hair in the mirror and patted some perfume onto her neck.

A chorus of drunken song floated into the room through the open balcony windows. "Goodness," Caroline said, emerging from the wardrobe again, "The drunkards certainly are loud today."

"There's a wedding on," Elena said absently, turning to accept the necklace Caroline handed her. It was a sapphire necklace, and the jewels bore a striking resemblance to Damon Salvatore's eyes. She froze, her hand slightly reaching and curled her fingers back into her palm. "Not that one," Elena said, an edge entering her voice.

Caroline frowned, suspicion spreading across her face, "Why? You've always loved this necklace." At Elena's tight expression, she muttered, "Elena, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"But-"

"I said nothing Care!" Elena snapped, tired of her friend's prying nature. But guilt blossomed in her chest as Caroline's expression turned to hurt. She sighed and then smiled softly. "Come on, lets go for a walk in the grounds," she said, rising and linking Caroline's arm in her own.

* * *

"Damon."

CLASH! A hail of sparks hit the floor.

"DAMON."

Another hail.

"DAMON!" This time Stefan grabbed his brother's shoulder and wrenched him around. Damon stared at him, a crease appearing on his brow.

"Stef?" He wiped his forehead. "What are you doing back here?"

Stefan glared at him, "What did you say to Elena?" he said angrily. His brother's face hardened and he rolled his eyes dismissively.

"What does it matter?" he replied.

Stefan tried not to snap. Why couldn't his brother ever be nice? "Damon. She was trying to do a nice thing for you," he ground out. "There are plenty of those who would not. You should be grateful-"

"Grateful?!" Damon whipped around, anger blazing in his eyes. "Since when did you become their lapdog Stefan? What makes her so much different than the rest of her kind? People like that, they don't care about the lives of the rest of us, and one day soon, you're going to learn that the hard way."

Stefan put his hat back on angrily. "Maybe," he retorted, "but it won't be because of Elena."

* * *

She hated to admit it, but she had to. The blacksmith had got to her. Caroline had gone to bathe after readying her for bed, but she couldn't , Elena started to rearrange her gowns, when she saw one of Caroline's plainer ones hanging among her own. It was simple, the one her friend used when going out to market, not elaborate or befitting a lady of her station.

Elena froze on her way to place the dress in Caroline's room. Her eyes drifted back down to the clothing in her hands. Could she..._ No! It was preposterous!_ But at the same time… she could. The candlelight from Caroline's room went out. She had gone to bed. Elena took a breath and looked out of her windows at the town, which was still alive with festivities.

Twenty minutes later, she was staring at the image of a pretty peasant girl in the mirror. She was wearing a plain tan, blue and white dress with her brown riding cloak to hide her features. Silently, she crossed the room and picked up a small holding lantern. She lit the candle inside from one of the hallway candelabras which were flickering in the dark. Quietly, she closed the door of her chambers and started quickly through the floors of the villa.

As she stepped out into the cool night air, Elena hesitated. She couldn't take her horse, or it would be obvious that she was not an ordinary serf girl. She would have to go through the door in the gate and walk through the square.

A thrill shot up her spine. She had never been anywhere alone before, her father simply did not allow it. And now she was here, in the darkness of night, dressed in common clothes, unescorted. Elena steeled herself. _Father will never know._

Taking care not to cause much noise, Elena went over to the heavy wooden gate and pulled the two heavy wooden bars up with a small amount of effort. Then she opened the door, ducked through it, and was out.

The streets around the town square were not too dark, as light and music from the marketplace flooded the area. Elena slowly walked through the cobbled roads, passing couples dancing, drunken youths, loud men, musicians, prostitutes, and brawls. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

The smells of wine and ale filled the air, along with smoke and laughter. Shouts of both amicable words and offensive words drifted through the crowds. In the market centre was a large bonfire, with many people talking and dancing. A group of minstrels stood playing drums and plucking strings to a lively song. They all looked so alive.

And she had never felt so lonely.

* * *

After standing there awhile, Elena began to recognise some familiar faces. There was the silk merchant, and the tavern lord, and she could see a few young girls that often sat outside mending clothing. Suddenly, a whirl of bright scarlet clothing caught her eye from across the square.

A whore, in white and crimson skirts was giggling with a man dressed in black. Unbidden, Elena's feet took her around the fire in better view of them. As she neared the pair, her heart began to beat faster. She watched as the woman took the man's hand and pulled him into a side street. Just as she did, light from the fire lit his face; and Elena's heart slowed. It wasn't him.

_Him? _She inwardly berated herself, _The blacksmith? Why do you even care?_ But, scanning the busy square, she realised she couldn't see him. He wasn't there. For some reason a strange feeling akin to disappointment lanced her breast.

Elena let out a breath and turned back around. As she did so, she accidentally knocked into a man, spilling his wine across his shirt. "OI!" The man glared at her. "What the blazes d'you think you're doing? Stupid woman!"

"I'm sorry," Elena felt blood rush to her face, "I didn't see you."

"Didn't see me?" He shoved her roughly, "D'you see me now?" He had dark hair, a cut on his forehead, and smelt like ale, but that was all the detail Elena cared to take before she squeaked in fright and hurried off into the darkness. "HEY!" The man's resounding voice sent a cold wave of terror over her. "I WASN'T FINISHED WITH YOU!"

Elena broke into a run, holding her skirt above her ankles as she headed for the safety of a side street. As she entered the dreary bleakness, she looked over her shoulder. The man was following after he, unsteadily but with speed. She gasped. Heart pounding in her chest, and blood ringing in her ears, Elena blindly sprinted through the damp streets, sounds of the drunk following echoing around her. She tried to hold back tears as she realised with dawning horror that she had no idea where she was.

"OI! GET BACK HERE!" The man's voice was angrier. And closer.

Choking back sobs, Elena ran towards a long but wide path, the mans steps slapping on the ground behind her. As she swung around a corner, she plunged headlong into a solid chest. She stumbled back, her eyes catching a ray of piercing blue before she hit the ground.

* * *

Damon's long stride was broken as a small frame collided with him, breaking his step and sending them reeling backwards onto the ground, where they lay unmoving. "What the-" he began in annoyance, before a loud, red-faced man lurched into view.

"YOU!" He shouted, his words slurring. "YOU SEEN A GIRL, 'BOUT THIS TALL?" He held his hand out, not noticing the crumpled person at Damon's feet in the darkness. "SHE GOT BIG BROWN EYES, DAMN'D PRETTY THING."

Damon shook his head impatiently. He had no time for dealing with drunks. "No, I haven't. Go back to the party."

"S-SURE? S'ALRIGHT." Unsteadily, he stumbled back out of sight. Damon sighed, aggravated. He looked back down at the form lying on the ground. _Probably one of the young girls, _he thought grimly. He wasn't any chivalrous knight, but he wasn't wicked. "Come on, get up." He nudged her with toe of his boot. "Time to go back to your Mama." When she still didn't move, Damon sighed.

Kneeling down, he hoisted the person up none too gently. As he did so, the hood covering their face fell back, and he stopped. _What in hell? _"You're not a peasant girl," he said in surprise as he stared upon the unconscious face and features of Donna Elena Gilbert. _This changes things. _

What was he supposed to do, put her back down? Maybe go fetch his brother, Stefan would know what to do in these uncomfortable situations. _You can't just leave her there, _his only too human conscience reprimanded him, _God knows what could happen to a lone girl on a night like this. _

After a moment of indecision, Damon lifted her into his arms and began walking back the way he came.

* * *

**AN: This chapter wasn't as long as the last one- I'm aiming for between 3,500/5000 words per chapter- but I don't want this version of Damon and Elena to plunge into a relationship, as I don't really think it suits the characters I've written them to be. BUT this is an M for a reason, and it won't take too long for the sparks to start ;)**

**Here's a preview for next time...**

**_Damon threw back his head and laughed loudly. "What reputation Princess?" He leant his black head down to hers as his voice dropped to a low, silky voice, "I'm notorious."_**

**Till then guys, I really love hearing your opinions on my story, and if there's anything I'm getting wrong, please don't hesitate to tell! Thank you**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own ****nothing but the plot, all rights go to L.J Smith, the CW, and the title inspiration goes to William Shakespeare!**

**AN: PLEASE DON'T EAT ME. It took me weeks to get round to finishing and uploading this chapter, but GCSE's are hard. Here it is at last though, and I hope you like it! Thank you all for your super-wonderful reviews, they're really encouraging :) Anyway, on with the show...**

* * *

When Damon reached his small residence, situated on the street on the other side of the forge, he quickly opened the door and carried Elena inside. Depositing her in a chair, he went back and latched and barred the door. It wouldn't help his business if news of the Conti's rumoured girl was seen in his apartments. Out of curiosity, he removed her heavy cloak, finding her wearing plain clothes, much to his own surprise.

Not knowing what to do, Damon lit candles, and began to build a fire. Just as he was finishing, he heard the girl stir in the chair behind him. Not bothering to pay her much attention, he waited until he had a strong blaze going before standing and turning to her. Elena looked up at him as though she were Andromeda before the Kraken, her wide doe-eyes filled with alarm.

Damon leaned against the wall, casually surveying her through apathetic eyes. He was the first to speak. "Tell me Princess, what're you doing out dressed in that on a night like this?"

Elena straightened a little, but didn't reply. Damon persisted; "Where's your escort?" She swallowed, the contours of her delicate throat pulsing with the movement. Damon felt a tingle make its way up his spine as he noticed it. Ignoring it, he quipped, "What's wrong? Don't you recognise me in clean clothes?"

Elena's mind was too busy trying to piece together the situation to respond to his questions. As the silence lasted, Damon moved forward. He fetched a jug and cup of wine and put it beside her. She didn't seem to notice. Then he noticed a thin trail of blood making its way along the side of her smooth cheek.

Damon picked up a damp cloth, and went to wipe it off. But when he touched her, Elena flinched violently, making him hesitate. He fought the urge to roll his eyes; women of her stature were always so delicate.

Elena felt a cool wetness touch her skin, and she jumped, the adrenalin of only a while ago not fully worn off. She looked at the blacksmith. He sighed, but she couldn't identify the emotion behind it. "I'm not going to hurt you Princess."

Elena relaxed as she realised her predicament. He was helping her. She corrected him quietly, "My _name_ is Elena."

Damon's bright eyes flicked upwards to meet hers. "That's not what people call you though, is it?" he corrected wryly, continuing to dab at her skin.

"Your name is Damon, but that's not what people call you, is it?" she countered boldly.

A hint of surprise flitted across his face, but he simply replied, "No, they do not." Elena smiled at her small victory. "You do though." His remark split the smile from her lips, and her heart thudded hard against her chest as he raised his head and straightened to look at her. Of course, she had been improper in his company.

"I won't let myself slip up again," she told him, slight anxiety in her soft voice.

Damon raised a dark eyebrow, "I don't think that flaw matters- given the position you're presently in could bring you to social ruin in an instant."

Social ruin. Her father's biggest fear. Elena shuddered to think of his reaction to her current state.

"Imagine; a Donna, daughter of a prestigious Conte, found unescorted in the local and handsome blacksmith's home, without the proper clothing, and covered in blood and scrapes." He seemed to find her reaction to his slanderous words interesting and he watched her as he spoke.

"But," Elena swallowed, she would be skinned alive if her father heard such rumours. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "But you wouldn't do that." His face made a 'wouldn't I?' impression. "You would also be ruining your own reputation in the process."

Instead of her words having the sobering effect she hoped they would have on him, Damon threw back his head and laughed loudly. "What reputation Princess?" He leant his black head down to hers as his voice dropped to a low, silky voice, "I'm notorious."

Uncomfortably warm, Elena pressed herself back into the hard wooden chair. "Thank you Signor Salvatore," she said quickly, in an effort both to divert their attention and to convey her gratitude.

Damon drew back, his face hard and flinty. "Typical- formal mockery." In that instant, every reason why she had originally decided against a friendship with this man came flooding back to her. Indignation swelled in her chest.

" '_Formal mockery'_? My apologies, I didn't realise you found gratitude and manners so repulsive!" Elena retorted sharply.

"I find the false niceties of _your _kind repulsive," Damon bit back coldly.

Elena couldn't believe what she was hearing. _What on earth is wrong with this man?! _"Indeed, you seem to find niceness in general an insult." Her words rang with hurt and anger.

Damon straightened, his nostrils flaring. "If you are speaking about your earlier gift, your condescending, patronizing, self-flattering-"

"_Self-flattering?!"_

"-_gift_, then yes, I found that insulting; as would every hard-working man who is _pitied_ and then spat upon by your type of spoilt, extravagant, haughty and arrogant people," he reeled off with an acerbic suaveness, all the while glaring at her in thorough distaste.

Unable to keep her emotions in check, Elena's emotions got the best of her. She stood hastily, her fists balled at her sides and fury burning in her dark eyes. "How dare you!" she exclaimed.

"_You_, have got to be one of the most proud, rude, and ill-mannered persons I have ever met! I would dearly love to know what it is I have ever done to deserve your immediate hate because the only conclusion I can think of is this; you saw I have a wealthy family, and you mistook my kindness, and you judged me! Well, _Damon Salvatore_, let me tell you something-" she strode forward at this point and matched his stare, which dropped to her red lips for a single second- "I wouldn't care if you were a Duke, a blacksmith, or a groom; if you were a good and honest person I would like to become your friend, but as you aren't, _I do not_!"

Tears stung her eyes at his ignorance, "And yet still I hope very much that you find happiness, because I have never met such a lonely or angry person in my whole life."

Damon stared at her, his jaw dropping as her honest words made their way through his walls into his heart. He watched, numbly, as she snatched up her cloak and made her way to the door. She paused before she stepped outside, looking at him with glittering eyes. "I'm sorry that I offended you, and I'm sorry that I hurt your pride. But know this; you may call me pompous, you can call me decadent, but I have never done anything to deserve your assumptions- and you have done everything to deserve mine." Elena slammed the door, the resounding noise sending a tremor through them both.

As she stood outside, breathing harshly, Elena took a moment to bask in the amazement of what she had just done and said. It was so uncharacteristic of the demure Elena she had to be in society…. Yet so honest and refreshingly herself.

Still, Elena didn't doubt that her father would have her hung drawn and quartered if she ever spoke her mind like that in his presence. But she didn't stop to think about that too deeply. Pulling up her hood, she started to walk back in the direction of the villa.

* * *

Damon stood for several moments in deep reflection of what she had said. Then he realised what had just happened. She was out there, in the dead of night, all alone. Cursing, he grabbed a dark coat and pulled it on, following her into the night.

It didn't take him very long to catch up with her; from a distance he watched her steps become less confident, and she began to slow into a nervous tread. After a few minutes, he walked up behind her, not bothering to mask his footsteps. Elena stiffened.

"Do you know where you're going?" He asked emotionlessly.

After a brief time she replied with a curt, "No."

"Then I should take you," was all he said, and walked on.

When they were nearing the sight of the villa's gate, she said a reluctant "Thank you." Damon didn't reply. If he was honest, he was in awe of this girl. _No, this woman. _When she argued with him and put him in his place, she had a fire that he hadn't thought she'd have the courage to show or the character to own. Even after their initial showdown, she had found the consideration to thank him. He could never do that. All too soon, he realised the ugly truth that he had judged her; and worse, that once he recognised that and opened his eyes a little, he began to like what he saw.

It was unreal. Impractical.

But the events of the night didn't stay at the back of his mind for long. "How did you manage to get past the servants?" he suddenly asked, with true interest.

"I was very quiet."

"But what about your father?"

"He's on a hunting trip," Elena said sheepishly. She turned to him, her eyes fearful. "You won't… tell him, will you?"

Damon was taken aback by the panic growing in her eyes. He shook his head, "Of course not. I don't want a flogging."

She laughed dryly, "Believe me, neither do I."

The blacksmith looked exasperated, "Your father would never have you flogged."

"Wouldn't he?" Elena looked across at him, her expression one of fact. "He has hit me before."

That took Damon by surprise. One of his few adamant morals were that men should not hit women. "What? Why? Gentlemen aren't supposed to hit their ladies. They find it beneath them."

"Obviously not far enough," she said bitterly. "After all, young ladies aren't supposed to want less than they have," her eyes took on a melancholy glow, "still, some do."

"Why would you want less than you have?" he snapped. She was very naïve. "Where's the sense in that?"

Her answer was nearly inaudible. "Because then people would treat you like an equal and not judge you." He looked at her sharply. "You're not the first you know."

"Then why did it surprise you so much?"

"It didn't surprise me," Elena paused, "It just hurt me." By now they had reached the villa wall.

"Can you get to the gate without being seen from here?" Damon asked. She nodded, a few strands of silky hair falling into her eyes. Then she gave him an acknowledging nod and moved as if to continue.

"Elena," her given name felt right on his tongue.

"I…" he hesitated, he wasn't someone who usually apologised for things. "I misjudged you." His blue eyes locked with hers, "It was wrong." She smiled complacently, as though to say 'Whatever'. As she put her elegant hand on the wood of the gate door, desperation suddenly gripped him. "Elena-" _It sounds so right_ -"Please." He didn't know what he was asking for; forgiveness or affection.

Elena wavered for a moment. Then she retraced her steps back to his side. Damon turned to face her, the first rays of morning lighting her beautiful face. Slowly, she stretched up and planted a small, chaste kiss on his cheek. She looked into his eyes, innocence and warmth radiating from her gaze. "Goodnight," she breathed. "Damon."

He stared at the spot she vacated. Heard the door open and the wood thump as it closed, heard her quiet footsteps die away.

And he stood there, heart thumping and cheek burning with her kiss.

* * *

Elena shut the door of her chambers quietly and fell back against it. It had certainly been an eventful night… She pulled off the cloak and began to undress. As she went to hide the outfit in her armoire she caught her reflection in the glass of her dressing table. Elena stopped, staring into the eyes of a girl she had never seen before. The docile, listless, lady had gone and in her place was a bright eyed, animated young woman.

_Bright eyes…_ Her thoughts went straight to another pair of eyes, shimmering blue against rough skin.

* * *

"Elena."

Elena went and kissed her father on the cheek, "Father, how was your expedition?"

"Very fine, and a great success," Conti Gilbert looked her over critically, "I hope you behaved yourself while we were gone?"

His daughter lowered her eyes, "Of course Father."

The arrival of another man changed the course of the conversation. "Signorina Elena," Conti di Sallencia bowed briefly. She curtseyed modestly.

"Greetings, Conti di Sallencia. I hear you had a successful hunt?"

"I really would prefer you to call me Conti Alphonse, Signorina, we know each other well enough now."

"Well, I-" Elena began to protest.

"It is my express wishes."

She stopped; his tone leaving no room for debate. Two servants that had accompanied the men on their journey appeared, dragging a large sack. "And yes, we had a very successful hunt indeed." Alphonse kicked the sack over, spilling out the carcass of a magnificent tawny deer.

Elena recoiled as the animal's head hit the floor, its graceful eyes staring blankly. She had never liked death. "I hope she did not suffer very much," she said, covering her nose and mouth with a white handkerchief.

He put his boot on the deer's hide, grinning in triumph. "Oh she did," Alphonse said with satisfaction. His pitch eyes drilled into Elena's wide ones, "I'll wager she suffered very much." Then he straightened, "Tell me Signorina, have you seen my prize trophies?" She shook her head, stomach twisting. Alphonse smiled, "Then you must." Elena had no choice under her father's eye but to go with him.

She followed him dutifully into the villa, and then to a long gallery. "My pride and joy," he said proudly, not noticing the horrified expression on her face. The walls were covered in hides and heads of more than 100 animals; deer, foxes, wolves, felines, almost every creature she had come across in Italy were mounted on wooden plaques.

The Conti offered her his arm, and she took it faintly. He smelt of blood and animals- not a pleasant combination. Elena was then aware of the fact that there were no servants to be seen, and her father had naturally left them together. They were totally and utterly alone.

"You must be an adept huntsman," Elena said politely.

"I enjoy it." Alphonse turned to her, pausing their walk in the middle of the floor. "I think it only natural that a man breaks lesser beings into submission."

Elena felt a shudder cross her shoulders. The man intimidated her. "And you- you enjoy pain?"

Conti di Sallencia's eyes leered at her from under his heavy brows and she subconsciously took a step back. He laughed then, a loud sound that echoed in the hall. "I enjoy _causing _pain, Signorina," Alphonse's mouth smiled thinly, "especially to those who go against me." She stared at him as he reached out and pinched her cheek hard, producing a small cry to escape her lips. His smile broadened. "I'm sure you'll learn in due time."

From then, Elena tried her best to avoid the Conti. But his attention grew more frequent; demanding she sit next to him at dinner, requesting her presence at whim. Over the course of the next few days, when she found herself alone with him, Alphonse had taken to nipping her arms and cheeks every so often. He relished her yelps of pain. Once, he had strained her flesh so tightly that a light bruise formed on her skin, meaning she had to wear a long-sleeved gown the next day. When Elena tried to communicate to him that she didn't like that particular touch, he had simply scowled and responded with a curt nod, before resuming his gestures with vengeance.

So she went to her father.

"Father," Elena began, her wrist still stinging. "Might I speak to you about something?"

"Not now Elena." Jonathon didn't even look up from his business scripts.

"But Father- look!" She pulled her glove down, showing him the angry red mark on her inner arm. Jon stared at her for a moment before turning back.

"Put your gloves back on Elena."

"But-"

This time Jonathon jumped up, grabbing her hurt arm and snapping. "Don't argue with me girl! Do as you're told! And I don't want to hear or see any nonsense of this sort again." She left the room in tears.

That night, when Caroline was helping her get ready for bed, she noticed the marks on Elena's skin. "Lena?" Caroline touched her shoulder, "What's this?"

"It's nothing," Elena lied feebly.

"I can read you like a book Donna Gilbert," her friend admonished, "and this is not nothing."

Elena chose her words carefully. "Conti di Sallencia- Alphonse, that is, he finds a victory in pain, it would seem." The blonde girl's face took on an expression of horror and disgust, but could do nothing but comfort her friend.

As Caroline was leaving Elena's room and going to give her gown to the housemaids, she bumped into Stefan. "Oh! Buongiorno Stefan!"

"Buongiorno Caroline." His handsome face smiled at her warmly, but the smile dimmed as he noticed her troubled expression. "Are you quite alright? You look disturbed."

"I'm fine, thank you very much." Caroline shook her head, "But Elena…" She continued to tell him about her friend and his master as they made their way to the lower floors. Stefan grew more grave as she finished, his eyes hard. "Stefan?" Caroline ventured, "Did I offend you?"

"No! Not at all! It's just…" Stefan stopped, swallowing hard. He turned to Caroline, "We- that is, my brother and I, we were brought up not to lay a hand on females. In fact, I do not know many men that do."

"Really? None?"

"Not many," Stefan corrected her gently. "And those that do- well, they are usually drunks or just cruel."

"Conti di Sallencia is cruel then," Caroline said heatedly. Stefan had no answer that would console her.

* * *

A few days later, Stefan was in town, escorting both ladies to the market before calling in on his brother. After they had chatted for a while, Stefan decided to tell him. "I have some news. About Elena."

"Is she well?"

The question nearly took Stefan by surprise, but he had more pressing matters to voice. "If only." Damon's motions wavered at his words, and his face took on an expression of concern, but his younger brother didn't notice from beside him. "It appears that Sallencia finds it appealing to mark her skin." His words were tinged with resentment.

Damon's hammer landed on his metal anvil. He hastily tried to check himself. "What? How do you know this?"

Stefan's usually gentle face was hard. "Caroline, her maid, told me in confidence. She's worried about her- they're friends you know."

The blacksmith's hands curled into fists at his sides. "What has Ele- she done about it? Has she told her father?" _Why would anyone want to hurt Elena?_ Damon thought in disbelief.

"According to Caroline she has."

"And?" Almost immediately, Damon realised that her father would want her removed from harms way. Removed from the villa…

"He does nothing."

"WHAT?!" Damon's angry exclamation caused masons across the road to glance at him. He nodded in their direction before lowering his voice. "That's ridiculous!" He hissed, "He's her father."

Stefan raised his brows, "Father or owner?" he said acidly. "I'm going now Damon, the ladies have been at market long enough." They exchanged a curt nod, before Stefan turned and walked off. Damon returned to his work neutrally, but his mind was full of vengeance.

* * *

Elena waited as Caroline counted out several coins into the hand of a jovial tradesman. The two women walked through the square towards the fountain of St Valentine, when Caroline spotted Stefan coming towards them. "Signor!" she called.

"Stay here with him," Elena said, "I want to give thanks at the fountain."

"But Elena-"

"Don't worry, I'll be quick," she told her friend, before hurrying away.

The fountain was wide and circular, engraved with birds. It was in a chapel yard, concealed from prying eyes. Elena knelt at its side, crossed herself, and then prayed. "Please," she whispered to the patron saint of love, "I know what my father wants; but let the man I will love, love me. Let me be happy." Then she tossed a coin into the clear water. Elena's eyes followed its descent to the stone bottom of the fountain. She sat there for a few more minutes, basking in the rare moment of peace and independence that she was being afforded.

After a while she reluctantly got up, and made her way back to Caroline and Stefan. But as she got closer, she slowed her steps; it looked like they were arguing. Well, she amended in her head, Caroline's scolding and Stefan's looking disconcerted. Elena couldn't blame him; her friend's temper was hot.

"What is it, Caroline?" She interrupted the pair before things became embarrassing. Caroline paled, and Stefan looked away. Elena frowned, "Will one of you please tell me what this commotion is about?" Her eyes flickered to Caroline, who shot Stefan a glance before speaking.

"Elena, I- I had some concerns."

"Concerns? What kind of concerns?" She began to feel uneasy

"Concerns about Conti di Alphonse. You remember, when you had… Well, I shared my concerns with Stefan-" she inclined her head towards him, "and it would seem he told his brother."

Elena felt like the pit of her stomach had dropped out. _What if- God forbid- Alphonse found out that she had told people?_ Anxiety washed over her in waves. _What was he capable of- what lengths would he go to, to ensure she never spoke out of turn again?_

"Excuse me," she stammered, spinning around and rushing to the opposite side of the market, around a corner, and into the mason's lane. She could hear the clanging of metal and horses whinnying, so she knew he was at work. Elena bumped into a potter, causing his still-warm pieces to sway in his arms. She apologized and went on, spotting the smithy opposite. The huge double doors were open, and she could see a silhouette of a man.

_Damon._

Elena dashed into the forge. Damon looked up as her steps sounded, shock evident on his features. "Elena?" For a moment he admired her poise, long hair streaming, silken gown, cheeks glowing with exertion. Perhaps she had come just to see him-

"What did Stefan tell you?"

No. Of course not. Damon raised his brows at her, "You tell me."

"Don't tease me, Damon." There was desperation in her voice. "Promise me you won't tell anyone. Promise!"

"No need to get so passionate Princess, I promise." Elena deflated with relief. "But…" Her brown head snapped back up again, "don't marry him."

Elena's eyes widened. _The nerve of him!_ "You really think I'm to have a choice in the matter?" she asked incredulously. Did he really think her so wealthy that she could do whatever she pleased?

"You always have a choice!" Damon came around his work bench to face her. "I think-"

"What business is it of yours?" She cut him off.

Damon replied measuredly. "It's not. But I can't seem to help taking an interest in your affairs."

She stared at him, her warm eyes on his. "Well you shouldn't. It won't cause any good-"

"According to who? You? Your father? Sallencia?" She cringed. "Listen to me, Elena. A man- a real man- should not hit women. Ever. Especially not the one he is supposed to love."

"Not in your world perhaps, but in mine its common practice."

"Then you don't belong in your world!" Damon sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look Elena, I don't know enough about you to understand your situation. But I know you shouldn't be in it." As the silence grew, he dropped the serious tone. "Tell me Princess, have you taken any more midnight strolls?"

She shook her head.

"Hm." He leant forward, a smile growing on his face. "The day after tomorrow, meet me outside the gate, after the stable-hand's gone to bed."

"Why?" Elena asked.

"I want to show you something."

"But…" alarm bells started ringing in Elena's head. "Is it, _proper_?"

"Not at all." The blacksmith smirked, "But that is the point."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own ****nothing but the plot, all rights go to L.J Smith, the CW, and the title inspiration goes to William Shakespeare!**

**AN: It's been _ages_ I know, and I'm sorry for the length of time it took. However, all my exams are over until summer, and I'm going to have a lot more time to dedicate to this. Thank you all for your amazing reviews, those who take the time to give me your opinions, I value them all! Anyway, here is the next chapter... :) **

* * *

After her eventful meeting with the blacksmith, Elena found her way back to the town square, and rode back to the villa with her purchases. But not before she got an earful from Caroline. There was however, good news, When she arrived back, it was becoming cloudy and dark, and within the hour the sky was pouring merciless rain down upon them, which meant that her father and Conti di Sallencia had to stay overnight at the lord they had gone to visit a few miles away.

That evening, Elena ate with Caroline comfortably, and spent several hours playing cards and talking with her and Stefan until it was time for her to take to her bed.

* * *

The next day was dry, enough to ride, so the three went out at late morning for a tread around the countryside. Stefan showed them many places; such as where the local children played in the stream, the track to the forest that they had passed through coming from Milan, a point in the hills where you could see the area for invariable distances, and pretty routes. At late midday, they decided to turn back, and made their return slowly, conversing all the way.

However, when they got back to the villa, Caroline fell silent. Thankful for the break from her friend's voice, Elena heaved a sigh of relief. Then she looked up, and saw her father and Alphonse riding into the villa just ahead of them. She turned to Caroline and Stefan, "Can we go the long way round?" she begged. But it was too late.

"Elena," Conti di Gilbert called loudly. Elena turned and raised a gloved hand in recognition. She rode into the courtyard and dismounted carefully. "How was your trip to town?"

"It was pleasant, I-"

"Good, good!" Jonathon turned to Conti di Alphonse, "If you don't mind, I've some rather urgent letters from some peers I've to see to."

"By all means, attend to them." Conti di Sal- _Alphonse _said, nodding. "I had a mind towards spending some time with your daughter, Conti."

He didn't even hesitate, "Of course, of course." Jonathon strode away.

Elena turned to Alphonse, trepidation creeping up her spine. "What ha-"

"You," he pointed at Caroline, dismissing the fact Elena had spoken. "Take your Donna's possessions to her quarters. Stefan, tend to the horses, and then I've some wines that need tried before thrown downstairs."

And so Elena was left alone with him.

Alphonse took her firmly by the arm, leading her through the yard and into a section of his magnificent garden. "I would like to thank you for your hospitality," Elena began, trying to keep things proper. "Truly, the favours you have shown to my father and I are-"

"I didn't request you speak," he stated, turning around. His eyes ran over her face, like cold water turning to icy rivulets, and he leant towards her. Elena stepped back, but there was a tree behind her, blocking her. He smiled coldly, as her back came to rest against the bark. "You can try, but you cannot escape me," he fingered her small, delicate chin, before gripping it hard. "You will be mine one day soon. And you will have to do as I say." Then he kissed her, with no thought for her comfort or pleasure- and Elena despised it.

* * *

Dinner that evening was formal and uncomfortable, for her, and she found herself yearning for the time when she could slip away to her chambers and soak in a bath of hot water. But the meal seemed to last an age, so she excused herself, saying she felt poorly and went to bed early.

Once Elena was in bed, she relaxed a little, and amused herself with a book while Caroline built the fire in her room. "It may be cold tonight," she remarked. "I can't imagine many people will be going to the festival."

"Which festival?" Elena questioned.

Caroline wrinkled her pretty nose, "Not a festival as such; there's a band of musicians coming tonight, and there's a celebration being thrown for them."

"They must be good if the towns going to all that trouble," Elena said.

"Apparently they played for Lucrezia Borgia herself. Although, common people always like to have something to sing and dance about, any excuse to have fun will do."

Suddenly it came flooding back to Elena. Damon! She had been so immersed, at first with her friends, and then preoccupied by her unsuitable suitor, that she had forgotten about the blacksmith.

"_The day after tomorrow…meet me outside the gate…I want to show you something…"_

Curiosity began gnawing at her. This festival must be what he wanted to show her, and she certainly wanted to go. But, as both he and she had said, it wasn't proper. It went against the rules of upper class society.

_Then again…._ Elena found herself getting tingles as she thought of dancing, walking, even just talking with the blacksmith. He was certainly an enigma. "Caroline," she asked carefully, "when is this festival?"

"It starts once it gets dark," her maid answered. She narrowed her eyes at her, "What business is it of yours, Elena?"

"None," she answered, returning to her book. "I simply wished to know in preparation for the noise." Anticipation built in her heart. She could get out and come back in without being seen if it was late; and she was more than certain that he would be there. _It is resolved, _Elena decided, _I'll go tonight; if these are to be my last days of freedom._

"Caroline, I'm feeling unwell. I want to go to sleep now." She put her book down and blew out her bedside candle. The blonde girl cast an uncertain glance at the evening sky, which was only just beginning to turn dark blue.

"But its still-"

"I really do not feel at all well."

She relented, "Oh alright, just don't wake me up at a ridiculous hour because you cannot sleep." And so she left a smouldering fire burning, a spare candle lit, the curtains drawn and said goodnight before going out via her own chambers.

Elena waited for the click of the door to shut and for the light outside to darken before she got up quietly. She dressed herself in Caroline's peasant gown, taking her time while the sun sank gradually. Suddenly, as she was tying the ribbons of her bodice, her father's voice sounded outside her door. "Caroline?" Elena froze. The handle lowered, and the door began to open.

"Conti Di Gilbert?"

Relief washed over Elena as she heard her maid's voice save her from what would inevitably be anger and suspicion. Not daring to listen to their conversation, she padded nervously across the carpet and got into bed hastily, pulling the covers up to her chin so to conceal her clothing.

"…in bed."

"Very well. Let me know of her condition in the morning."

"Si, Conti."

Elena closed her eyes tightly, forcing herself to relax and pretend to sleep as Jonathon opened the door a little more and tilted his head in. He only lingered for a brief moment, then left and walked away down the corridor.  
By the time Elena opened her eyes again, the sun had disappeared and the sky was dark. Still, she waited until she could hear the servants going to their quarters before getting up again. Caroline's room cast a small flicker of light into her chamber, but she suspected her friend had fallen asleep with her candle lit.

Like the first time, Elena took a small lantern, lit the wick of the candle and crept out of her room. Scurrying through the villa, she had to pause a few times in order to avoid Conti Di Sallencia's servants, but that did not stop her. Within minutes, she was out, crossing the shadowy courtyard, lifting the wooden slat on the gate and disappearing out into the town.

* * *

Elena left the door cut into the gate propped ajar with a heavy rock. She shivered, there was a cool wind circulating Florence. Turning her head from side to side, she couldn't see anyone. After waiting until the clock struck the half hour, Elena felt disappointment settle heavily in her chest. He wasn't coming.

_But I'm out now,_ she thought spontaneously, revelling in it, _I might as well go to the festival._

Elena wrapped her cloak around her and hurried off down the street. She had got no farther than the first few houses when a pair of arms encircled her from the side. Instinctively, Elena opened her mouth to scream, but was stopped before she began by a large hand. In the blink of an eye, she was swept into the shadows.

"You're lucky its me," a voice hissed. "What do you think you're doing, didn't your last escapade teach you anything?"

"Damon?" Elena asked. "Is it you?"

There came a dry laugh. "Of course it's me- any other man with those actions would be forcing you against the wall right now." She shuddered. Damon laughed again, "Oh come on Princess, at least it is me." He stepped back into what little light the street offered and Elena followed. His eyebrows raised as he took in her appearance.

"What?" She asked self consciously.

"Nothing, I'm just taken by surprise to see you in the same costume as last time."

Elena folded her arms indignantly, shooting him a furious look. "I do not have _everything_."

"That is apparent."

"Oh, do be quiet!" She snapped, already annoyed with him. His only response was to snicker. He wasn't the only one in a surprised state though. Instead of his usual smith's apron and clothing, Damon was wearing black trousers, a loose white shirt with a grey doublet, and a wide brown belt that had a small dagger hanging from it. He looked quite handsome. Elena took a breath, won over by his appearance. "Wasn't there something you wanted to show me?"

Damon smiled, his white teeth shining predatorily. "Yes, there was." He offered her his arm with a grin. She accepted it and they walked off together.

* * *

Music, light, and warmth reached into the streets surrounding the market square. It was much like the wedding celebrations, but there were less people and less alcohol. The stalls and carts had been taken away, and in the centre, standing on a raised wooden platform was a group of men playing flutes, strumming harps, and a woman in her middle age singing an energetic song.

Only a few people nodded at Damon as he took her through the square, the rest averting their eyes as if afraid of a sharp retort. No doubt that's usually the case, Elena thought dryly. However, as the neared the tavern, a woman in dark, loose clothing stepped in front of them, her red lips turning into a grin at the sight of the blacksmith. She grasped Damon's arm familiarly. "Ciao cara, who's this?"

Elena felt something that felt suspiciously like envy make her fingers ache to clench Damon's arm tighter. But he just laughed, a half smile on his face. "Ciao, Vicki. This is…" he wavered slightly, casting Elena a look. "Katherine," he settled on. "Katherine, this is my friend Vicki."

Elena nodded, cautiously polite. "Buono sera."

"She's a pretty one, isn't she?" The woman's voice remained friendly, but there was no mistaking her trade. "Well, It was nice to meet you Katherine. See you Damon, ciao." She winked at him and then sauntered off.

"Katherine?" Elena questioned as they walked into the pub. Damon shrugged.

"It was the first name that came to my head."

"But surely people will realise-"

He interrupted her. "They won't."

She frowned as he led her over to a small table in a corner of the room. "How can you be so sure?"

He waited until the barmaid had brought their drinks to them. "Grazie Anna."

The young girl smiled and bobbed off, her black hair gleaming in its bun. He took a sip of his wine, "That's Anna," he told Elena, catching her looking at the girl. "Her mother is the baker's wife. She only about sixteen. I think she has something going on with the tavern owners' youngest son, Jeremy." He nodded to the young man of about sixteen behind the counter.

Elena looked back at him pointedly. Damon stretched. "Yes- but how can you be sure they all won't recognise who I am?" she pressed.

Damon took another drink of wine, "Well partly because I almost failed to recognise you the first time I came across you in your 'disguise'," he hooked his fingers in the air for effect. "And secondly because you look even more normal this night than you did the last. They're used to seeing you in rich gowns, with jewels and fancy hair braids- they've never seen you in common clothes, without a maid or riches, ad even your hair is different."

"No it's-" Elena began in confusion.

"It's curly. You must have washed it immediately before coming out."

"Oh," Elena felt her cheeks heat as she realised what had happened. "I forgot to comb it; it curls when left to itself."

"Don't comb it then," Damon told her, "and leave it down when you're out."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Whatever do you mean 'when I'm out'? I cannot make this a habit!"

He leant back in his chair, "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that. You like the excitement, don't you?"

"But it's improper-"

"Elena, you know what you're doing now is improper. And that's not stopping you."

She stared at him aghast. Was he mocking her morals? "I stand for chastity!"

"I am sure you do," Damon replied, his voice dry. "I'm sure you're also obedient, docile, and well-trained." She could not find the words to reply. He was not mocking her morals, he was mocking her manners!

After a few minutes of silence, Damon finished the last of his wine. He set the glass on the table and stood up. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Elena questioned as he led her back out the market square, which had grown louder. He only grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the platform so that they could hear the music clearly. Her eyes widened., "To dance?" she asked in shock. "But- Damon-I can't!"

"Oh come on!" He answered, "Nobody knows who you are!"

"You misunderstand," Elena protested. "I don't know how!"

At first Damon stared at her, uncomprehending. "Oh!" he exclaimed at last. Then a smirk came over his lips, "Learn then." He took her hand, placed it opposite his, and then showed her which way to move, when to spin, and a few basic steps. Elena giggled as they began to dance wholeheartedly. Her vision was full of vibrancy, she felt warm and giddy, laughing and spinning. Damon seized her waist, and lifted her high into the air, swirling her around once before setting her down and whirling her away again.

* * *

They danced and danced and danced, only stopping for short whiles to drink more wine and to catch their breath. Finally, people started to disappear back to their beds reluctantly and the music slowed. When the clock struck, Elena turned to Damon, "I had better return to the villa."

"I suppose you had," he acknowledged. He collected her cloak for her and then relit the lantern off one of the low torches burning in the square. "It is well past midnight," he noted, seeing the tavern closed.

"It doesn't seem like it," Elena mused as they walked back towards the streets. "I feel I've only spent a bare hour or two in your company."

"You know what they say," Damon remarked, "time flies when you're having fun." After a few moments he questioned her, "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Have fun?"

Elena smiled at him warmly, "Yes, I did. I certainly did." He half-smiled back at her. "However I still don't understand what you wanted to show me. You've shown me many things tonight."

He answered cryptically. "I showed you what you want."

"Pardon?"

Damon's head turned to her, and the light of his eyes caught hers. "I showed you how to live. To laugh. To dance." Elena lowered her eyes, unwilling to face the fact that she would not experience it again.

"You don't have to marry him you know," Damon suddenly continued. "I'd bet that if you breathed a clue to the fact that you didn't want to, there would be a queue of young fools, willing to run off and help you start a new life for the price of a few kisses."

Her mouth fell open. "Why, what on earth makes you suppose that?!"

"Nothing. But the fact remains."

"You cannot base a fact upon nothing." He shot her a glance. "And why shouldn't I want to marry him? He's prosperous, well accounted for…" she hesitated, trying to think of another good factor to Counti di Sallencia.

"And?" Damon mocked her. "Elena, I'm not blind nor stupid. I know you, and I can see right through your false optimism."

"What makes you think that you know me?" She asked defensively.

He laughed, fiddling with the top of his dagger, "Please, Princess, I bet I know you better than your own father. I've had you in my apartments alone, I've seen you in all behaviours, and I highly doubt you would be out alone with a man whom you did not know. Even you cannot be that naïve."

"I have been in your apartments for less thank half an hour while you cleaned my wounds, you have insulted me countless times, and maybe I am that naïve, you were so determined not to know me that surely you cannot be certain that I am not!" she snapped. What was it about him that made her laugh with him one moment and run him through the next?

Damon stared ahead stonily. Elena felt her cheeks heat uncomfortably. "I-"

"I do hope you're not that naïve," he said tersely. "I'd hate to have to be burdened with responsibility for you."

She kept her mouth closed, remorse welling up inside her. She didn't want him to think she was naïve, but she definitely never wanted him to see her as a burden. As they got closer to the villa, she desperately sought to end the night well. "I did have a lovely time Damon."

"Glad to hear it."

She watched his impassive face unhappily. "I didn't mean it, what I said. I wasn't thinking clearly, and I wasn't speaking correctly." He didn't reply. "I wasn't right."

"You should put on your cloak," he said briskly. "This wouldn't be a sight you would want many people witnessing." He threw the dark material out and around her, bring it in to tie at her throat. Elena stared up at him as he deftly knotted the cord. His face was unreadable, but waves of emotion washed out from him.

"Thank you," she said quietly as he let go and stepped back.

He looked at her, and for a moment she could see hurt in his eyes. "Goodnight Elena," he said, with a shallow smile, before turning and striding back off into the darkness of the streets.

Elena watched him go, distress written across her features. "Goodnight Damon," she whispered.

* * *

Damon strode through the streets brooding. She had been right. He didn't know her; not really. He had made her acquaintance by, as she said, insulting her, and then continued to do so every time he spoke with her. All he knew really was who she was, her status, and that she was an innocent girl who liked to laugh.

_Innocent._

Usually the word sent him running from women until it could no longer be used to describe them. Then again, he contemplated, so did wealth. But not this time. This time something about her sparked his curiosity; not just her looks, but the innocence in her eyes pulled him in, her sweetness intoxicated him, her kindness made him want to know her- and he didn't have the slightest idea why.

Had a girl snapped at him the words she had not so long ago, he could have- he would have, brushed it off. Shrugged or ignored it all together. But when Elena said it, it gnawed at his mind like a rat chewing through wooden floor. Unrelenting.

_But why should it?_ Damon told himself angrily. He kicked a stone across the cobbles as he veered around the corner towards his home._ There's no reason for me to court her like this; it's impractical. I'm not going to get anything from it, she certainly would never dare…_ he broke his current chain of thought, annoyed at himself for even tending to think that way. He reached his door, and pulled out the key from his pocket. Just before he stepped inside, he turned to face the sky. The first pink rays of dawn were appearing in the purple heavens, and his vision caught sight of a lightened window in the large villa. He stared at it for a moment. Then the light was snuffed out, and he closed the heavy oak door with a resounding thump.

* * *

Elena slept late the next day. She got up around noon, blaming her "illness" for her lengthy rest. Both her father and Conti Alphonse asked after her health, and she replied that she felt better, just slightly out of sorts. "A nice stroll to town and back should help you to regain your senses," Jonathon declared. "It will fill your afternoon, and you will be back in good time for dinner."

She dully agreed, and it was decided that she and Caroline would leave after the lunch was over.

As they got ready Elena felt the strangest sense of excitement. There was a chance she could see the blacksmith again. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Before long, she and Caroline were on the wide path leading around from the front of the villa to the town, conversing amicably. After the most part of an hour, they reached the market square, and Elena really did feel better.

Caroline let out a delighted squeal, "Elena look!" She tugged her towards a new jewellery stall, filled with necklaces and combs of precious stones. They spent the rest of the day buying, chatting with local people, and attending mass.

However Elena did not see a single glimpse of Damon throughout her whole afternoon, and it was with a disappointed air that she reluctantly made her way back to the villa towards evening. As they walked, she suddenly stopped Caroline. "I just want to go and… thank the smith for shoeing Marchesa," she said.

Caroline stared at her. "To what end?" she asked suspiciously. "The man was only doing his job. You never paid the forge in Milan a private visit." Elena said nothing, and her maid's eyes narrowed, "You don't favour him, do you Elena?"

"Of course not!" She was quick to reply. "Why, he's the most rude, ignorant, and difficult man I've ever met!" Caroline seemed satisfied with this answer, but Elena thought she sensed some lingering scepticism. "Still, manner must," she reasoned, and began to make her way along the masons' alley. The blonde wrinkled her nose in mild disgust, and followed after her.

Perhaps she had been wrong, Elena thought, her spirits rising as she neared the smithy. She could hear the sounds of labour coming from inside the forge and she stepped inside delicately, peering through the smoke. "Damon?"

"Scusi, Signorina." A man's voice came from the warm haze, and she stepped back. A man who appeared to be another blacksmith came forward, dressed in the standard fittings of a smithy. He had brown eyes and sandy hair, and he was covered in the usual layers of grime from the forgery. He was not Damon.

"You are not Senor Salvatore," Elena stated, taken aback.

The man laughed, and nodded. "No, I am not Signorina. I am Alaric- I am a partner of sorts." Alaric smiled at her. "And who are you?"

"Oh!" She had forgotten to introduce herself. "I am Elena Gilbert, my father is-"

"Conti Jonathon di Glbert," Alaric finished for her. "Scusi Donna, I did not recognize you. Shall I tell Damon he missed you?"

"No!" Elena was quick to reply. "I had nothing important to say. Good day, Alaric." She left quickly, Caroline close behind, and they continued back to the villa without making another stop.

They reached the luxurious stone villa in a small amount of time, taking the shortcut through the town. As the two women entered the courtyard through the gate, Caroline detoured them past the stables and in the way of the paved garden until they came to the walled garden that was beneath Elena's room. Caroline paused at a narrow set of steps. Elena gasped, "I did not know this was here."

"Neither did I till a few days past," her maid said. "It seems as though it hasn't been used in quite a while. I was in town for a few small collections for your father and it began to rain, so I ran back this way, intending to cut through the gardens, and tripped on my hem. When I fell, I landed beside this stairwell."

"I see," Elena said. "Where does it lead?"

"To a servants' door beneath your chambers," Caroline said. She led Elena up the steps, where it widened onto a narrow veranda, hidden by the spread branches of a large peach tree. "I can see my window directly above," Elena said in amazement, "How have I never noticed this before?" She exclaimed.

Caroline remarked, "People do not usually crane their necks and even if you did so, its position, along with the tree, shadows the stairway. It is almost invisible to one who is not looking for it." They walked up the stone steps and when they reached the small terrace the maid lifted a heavy wooden bar from across the door and set it against the wall. Upon passing through the door, Elena was faced immediately with a short flight of stairs, "Servants stairways," Caroline supplied.

When they reached the top another door was pulled open to reveal a heavy, thick tapestry blocking their entrance. Elena turned to Caroline with a confused look on her face, but she simply pushed the material away from the wall and slipped out into the warm, light corridors of the Conti's villa.

"But…" She was astounded, "this is only a mere corridor away from my chambers!"

Caroline shushed her, "Please, Elena, I don't think its' meant to be used," she said. Her friend assured her that nobody but them would hear about the door.

She turned to look at the tapestry that concealed the exit. It was a large one, woven from many coloured threads to create a depiction of Rome. Elena had been to Rome many times with her father- and it was not half as clean nor as luminescent as the hanging illustrated. Still, it was an ornate hanging, and more importantly it was only down the hall from her quarters.

Caroline hurried to get her ready for dinner in time, and within half an hour, she was making her way down the wide stone stairs of the villa.

As she came to the bottom of the steps, brusque footsteps made her pause and turn to look. A young man with black hair was striding quickly towards the back of the foyer, towards the courtyard his dark boots echoing against the cold stone floor.

"Damon?" The name escaped her lips without her consent, and Elena clapped a hand over her mouth in mortification as he turned. "That is- Signor Salvatore?"

The blacksmith nodded hesitantly, his eyes sweeping over her form clad in rich brocade. "Donna Elena."

She smiled gently, stepping towards him. "I wondered why I did not see you in town this day. Have you business with Conti Alphonse?"

"Yes, he wanted to speak with me about some new forms of weapon he wanted made." Damon's voice was distant, formal.

Elena's face fell as she took in the change in his demeanour. "I have thought about our last meeting," she said softly. Her words immediately grasped his attention. "I honestly did not mean… I didn't think." Elena swallowed, casting her eyes downwards. "I would hate for you to be hurt by my foolishness."

After a moment of silence had passed, Damon spoke. "It takes more than a few words spoken in anger to hurt me," he said softly. He placed a finger under her delicate chin, raising her eyes to meet his. "Although you spoke the truth; I do not know you. Not well, at least." Her breath caught in her throat as he leant down a few inches, the heat emanating from his body enveloping her. "I would like to know you better, Elena."

His sensibility screamed at him,_ what was he doing?_ But he had said it.

Elena's cheeks rose a little. "And I you, Damon," she replied quietly. His answering smile made her heart beat soundly against her chest, until she was sure he could hear it.

"_Elena!_"

Her father's voice echoed from the depths of the villa behind them, and she drew back, a little coloured. "I must go, I will be missed," she said breathlessly.

Damon nodded, "Of course. Goodbye Elena."

"Wait," she caught his wrist gently, "when may I see you next?"

He pondered her inquiry a moment. "I have a lot of work to do, so I can't know a time until a few days are past. But in the meantime, you 're welcome to stop by the forge."

She flashed him a brilliant smile, "Until then Damon. Goodbye."

* * *

**AN: Please review, I love hearing what you guys think of the story, and any constructive criticism is welcome :) ****And HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!**


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